


Lukewarm Rain

by Lamia of the Dark (VisceraNight)



Series: Lethe: Sealed Memory Saga [3]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Norse Religion & Lore
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Dumbledore Lives, F/M, Family, Fluff, Humor, Memory Alteration, Memory Loss, Romance, Sirius Lives
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:16:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 5,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VisceraNight/pseuds/Lamia%20of%20the%20Dark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of the Battle of the Avatars, both sides - light and dark - must learn to move on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burning From The Inside

**Author's Note:**

> In the style of its predecessors, this fic will have drabble-length chapters and will likely run between 25-30 chapters long. Unlike the first two in the series, this one was started in 2014. As such, the style is noticeably different. (Yes, I realize it is strange to write a sequel to something six years after you thought you were finished with it, but part II left a lot of loose ends hanging.)

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 1: Burning From The Inside -

Months had passed since that fateful battle, but it remained fresh in Bellatrix's mind.

She often dreamed of a graveyard in the rain, where she stood in front a headstone marked simply  _A Star Who Burned Out Too Soon._ She was overly aware of the water running down the length of the chain around her neck, the drops collecting in the coils of the tiny silver serpent until they flowed over, down the sides of the glass sphere around which the serpent was wrapped...

Her dreams were no longer premonitions, merely nightmares now. Always nightmares.

The loss of her child would be difficult enough to bear under normal circumstances, but the manner in which the events came about... She shuddered to think of it. Bad enough she had been a plaything of the gods, worse still that an end to the chaos had come only at the cost of her daughter's life.

The Dark Lord tried his best to comfort her, but it was not enough. The child had been as much his as hers, yet he could not comprehend the intensity of her grief. His feelings for both her and the child reached nowhere near the depth of hers. He had accepted and moved on from the child's death in short order. Bellatrix's persistent mourning unsettled and confused him.

He too had nightmares, nightmares that were no longer premonitions, but his nightmares were not of the past; they were of the present-future and the wealth of unimaginable power that his enemies still held.

The war was at a standstill, the dark army in hiding, because the light side still had two orbs of power with which they could easily crush Voldemort's forces if they should so desire. The Order of the Phoenix seemed content to leave them to their own devices for now... but there was no guarantee that the stalemate would be allowed to remain, especially if the Ministry got wind of the powers that were in the Order's possession and ordered a search for (and subsequent extermination of) the Death Eaters.

And so he continued to watch her fall apart, and he began to wonder if he should test the vow she had made to him two years ago.

_No matter how many times you take everything away_ , she had said back then,  _I will always fall in love with you again_.

~to be continued~


	2. I Open Out My Wings Of Glass

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 2: I Open Out My Wings Of Glass -

Nymphadora didn't know how long she had been standing alone in the graveyard in the rain, staring at a headstone that read only  _Here Lies a Fool_. Long enough that her parents or Remus would come after her soon, to drag her back home.

The thin silver chain was light on her wrist yet weighed on her heart like an anchor, but she couldn't seem to discard it. Every time she would go to undo the clasp, the silver wolf charm with the golden apple in its mouth would twinkle with reflected light and she would remember her infant son smiling up at her before all the madness began, and she couldn't take it off. She just couldn't. They don't say his name anymore, no one does, no one is  _allowed_ ; his name will not go down in history and is not permitted to be written anywhere - not even on his grave.

But before the Sun Orb broke, before all the madness began, before he became a scion of perfect chaos; before all of that, he was just a baby. Her little boy.

She wondered in the back of her mind if her aunt was also standing in a graveyard at this moment, a different graveyard than the one in which Nymphadora's son was buried, and if she felt the same despair that sat like a lead weight in Nymphadora's chest, or whether she did not even miss the daughter she had barely had a chance to know at all. Nymphadora didn't know whether she would feel better or worse if she found out whether her aunt shared her feelings, and when she realized exactly what she was thinking, she strove to push all thoughts of the evil woman out of her mind.

She felt thin arms slide around her shoulders and she turned, expecting to see her mother, but the person she faced was someone utterly unfamiliar to her. No, wait- It was... what was her name? Harry Potter's muggle aunt.

"Petunia...?" she put forth uncertainly.

"Congratulations, you got it right," a male voice drawled sarcastically, alerting Nymphadora to the presence of a third person. Petunia silently pulled the younger woman against her in an awkward hug as Snape continued to speak. "There's no point in forcing you to go back home when you keep coming out here as soon as your keeper's back is turned. We will watch over you while you take the time you need to mourn."

She could hear the rustle of his wings over the sound of the rain. It was disconcerting to see them rising, bright and bloody red, over his shoulders. She supposed it made sense for one of the remaining avatars to be the one to act as her guardian while she insisted on being out in the open (not that there had been any noticeable Death Eater activity since the Battle of the Avatars), but she had no idea why Harry's aunt was accompanying him for this task.

~to be continued~


	3. Drown In The Darkness

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 3: Drown In The Darkness -

Bellatrix awoke in the early afternoon, after a long night (and morning, as well) of deep, dreamless sleep. She sighed and pushed the covers away, then spent a few luxurious moments stretching, before she finally opened her eyes and got out of bed-

-and realized that she was in a room which was entirely unfamiliar to her.

She looked around in an attempt to gain her bearings. The style of the furniture, which had obviously been chosen for functionality over aesthetics, and the utter disregard for things to be properly matched to each other suggested that the owner of the room was male. Really, three different woods in four different finishes - how distasteful. The sheets on the bed didn't match the pillowcases, although they were at least in complimentary colors. The blanket was striped and clashed horribly with the rest of the bedclothes. However, it  _had_  been very warm and comfortable in the bed, she recalled, which she supposed was what ultimately mattered to whoever inhabited this room. She couldn't think of a single person she knew who would have such poor taste in interior decorating, though.

No, she concluded, this definitely wasn't any place that she knew.

And yet... the top of the dresser was littered with assorted cosmetics, hair-styling products, jewelry in distinctly feminine styles, and several small trinket boxes - which, upon further examination, proved to contain more jewelry.

 _Is this **my**  room, after all?_ she wondered, idly noting that there was neither a window nor a mirror anywhere in the room. There were two doors, one of which opened into a cramped bathroom, and the other of which presumably led to either a hallway or another room. She didn't bother trying to open that one yet; she was not prepared to leave this room when she still had no idea where the hell she was, exactly.

She checked the wardrobe. It was stocked with dresses in exactly the style she preferred. There were also a few sets of plain black robes, which she initially dismissed as being normal for her to keep even if she did not like to wear them. Next she looked in the dresser drawers, the first of which contained a plethora of lacy black undergarments and silky nightdresses in dark jewel tones. Another drawer was filled with corsets, silk stockings, and a few garter belts.

 _Who needs multiple garter belts?_  she thought disdainfully. She regretted asking herself that a moment later when her mind spat back the answer,  _A woman with a spoiled lover who likes to see her in lingerie that matches, that's who_.

Her earlier suspicion was confirmed when she opened the third drawer and found a small stack of black silk boxer shorts sitting next to a heap of unfolded socks. The owner of these items was likely the one whose plain black robes were hanging beside her dresses in the wardrobe, the man whose room this was.

Feeling a bit foolish for even needing to check, Bellatrix glanced down at her hands. They were bare. No rings, and definitely no wedding band.

 _I would remember if I was married_ , she mentally scolded herself.  _Then again, I **should**  also remember whether or not I'm being kept as someone's mistress_...

Bellatrix would have continued to examine the bedroom for clues, but her quest was interrupted by a sudden and desperate need for the bathroom. Once her pressing biological imperative was taken care of and she was washing her hands, she happened to catch a glimpse of her reflection in the mirror that was hanging over the sink. What she saw there shocked her more than waking up in an unknown location had.

She had known since she'd woken up that something was wrong... but until that moment, she had not realized exactly how wrong it was.

~to be continued~


	4. Kill The Voice, Close Your Eyes

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 4: Kill The Voice, Close Your Eyes -

It was early evening when Nymphadora, Severus, and Petunia returned to Number 12 Grimmauld Place. It was the place they all currently called home. Sirius had been happy to offer Remus and Nymphadora a place to live, and was just as happy to have his godson staying with him for the foreseeable future. Sirius was not particularly pleased to extend the same courtesy to Snape and Harry's aunt, but he understood why it was needful and grudgingly tolerated their continued presence in his home.

The trio knew something was wrong when they arrived, for not only were the collective inhabitants of the house waiting for them (as expected), but it seemed that most of the Order of the Phoenix was currently crammed into the living room.

Never the one to exhibit hesitance or tact, Nymphadora was the one to voice what they were all thinking: "What's going on here?"

The Order members fidgeted and glanced at each other, apparently all unwilling to be the bearer of bad news. For, surely, it must be bad news, or else why would the entirety of the Order be gathered here?

Finally, after a small eternity, Dumbledore stepped forward to take up the task of delivering the news.

"We have received a... peace offering, of sorts," he explained. "From the other side."

"What is it?" Severus asked, immediately suspicious. "Something with the ability to neutralize the orbs' powers, perhaps?"

From his expression, it seemed that Dumbledore was amused by Snape's assumption, but he shook his head.

"No, no, nothing like that," the old wizard said reassuringly. "It is Lethe water."

"What's Lethe water?" Nymphadora asked, nonplussed.

"Why, it is water from the River Lethe," Dumbledore replied with twinkling eyes.

"There's no need to be a smart aleck about it," Nymphadora grumbled. "What does it do, then?"

"If you were familiar with Greek mythology, you would know that of the five rivers present in the underworld, Lethe is the river of memory. Souls that are destined for reincarnation go there to be washed clean of the memories from their previous lives."

"So..." Nymphadora said slowly, as she digested this information. "It has the power to erase memories?"

Dumbledore nodded once to confirm.

"But why would they send us that?" she asked. "As a 'peace offering' or otherwise, it makes no sense."

When Dumbledore hesitated to explain further, Andromeda pushed her way through the crowded room until she stood in front of her daughter. Taking Nymphadora's hands in her own, she said, "They didn't send it to the Order in general. They sent it specifically to  _you_."

Still confused, Tonks asked, "Why me?"

Andromeda fought to keep her expression neutral as she answered.

"In the Dark Lord's own words:  _If you are unable to get over the pain of your loss, you can at least remove the source_."

Well, that answered one question, anyway. It appeared that Bellatrix had indeed deeply grieved her daughter's death - so much so that Voldemort had taken it upon himself to "cure" her of it by erasing her memory.

~to be continued~


	5. Some Water For The Dead Tree

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 5: Some Water For The Dead Tree -

_"What an enterprising mortal, to have found his way here, and without leaving his body behind," the goddess Nemesis commented almost offhandedly to the demon Charon._

_"As if we're not overworked already," Charon grumbled. Louder, he called out to the approaching mortal, "You can't cross over if you're not dead!"_

_"That is not why I am here."_

_"You can't take any of the dearly departed back with you, either," the ferryman said. "The gods made an exception for Orpheus once already, and they haven't made **that**  mistake again since."_

_"Charon!" Nemesis snapped, looking the Dark Lord over speculatively. "Perhaps you should allow the mortal to state his business rather than running your mouth."_

_"You're not a ruler of this realm; I don't have to listen to you," Charon griped. "Any you're only a minor goddess, anyway."_

_"Ugh, you're **insufferable**!" Nemesis gave the ferryman a hard shove on the shoulder before turning her full attention to their unconventional visitor. "What is it you seek, mortal?" she asked sweetly._

_"I seek the goddess Mnemosyne and the river of Lethe."_

_"I'll take you there... for a price," Nemesis offered, holding out an open palm toward him expectantly._

_"Will this suffice?"_

_The object that dangled from his fingers was more precious than any coin or simple jewel. The minor goddess of vengeance eyed it greedily. Suspended from a thin silver chain was a perfect, tiny likeness of Jordmungandr - the Midgard Serpent. In the serpent's coils was a plain glass sphere which still held a tidbit of Loki's magic, although it was not what had originally rested within the traces._

_"Yes, that should suffice," she replied in a bored tone, and he slackened his grip on the chain, allowing it to drop into her waiting hand._

After that, it had been a long slog to the River Lethe, one which he did not particularly care to recall. The goddess of memory had seemed perfectly happy to engage in pointless banter with the minor goddess of vengeance. She had seemed utterly unconcerned with the burdens of the other underworld gods. Few souls, it seemed, were ever chosen for reincarnation anymore - so Mnemosyne had little washing away of memories to do. She had agreed to his request without fuss, and without attempting to extract a price for her services as the other goddess had done. Her favor, however, had not come entirely freely.

_"But it wouldn't be fair to help only you, and not the other side. Even Loki wouldn't be so partial," Mnemosyne said, as she stood hip-deep in the River Lethe, holding the rune-graven stone bowl that contained Bellatrix's extracted memories._

_"Who says we have to play fair?" Nemesis countered._

_"We don't purposely upset the balance of powers," Mnemosyne replied, frowning. "As one whose purpose of existence is helping even the playing field, I would expect you to know that."_

_Nemesis shrugged. "Mortals don't worship us properly anymore, so it isn't as though I often have call to fulfill my godly duties. Can you blame me for forgetting such a thing?"_

_An ironic question for the goddess of memory._

_"Anyway," Mnemosyne said, turning to address Voldemort. "I will wash away these memories, if you agree to deliver a vial of Lethe water to your enemies."_

And he had agreed, of course he had agreed. Unlike the previous time that he had tampered with Bellatrix's mind, this time the change needed to be irreversible.

~to be continued~


	6. It Vainly Comes Just Crashing Down

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 6: It Vainly Comes Just Crashing Down -

Bellatrix stared at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze transfixed. Water from the faucet continued to flow over her cupped palms long past the point when her hands were fully rinsed clear of soap, her intended actions called to a halt by the severe state of distraction her mind was suffering.

She had spent a lot of time checking her surroundings, but not spared so much as a single thought in assessing the condition of her own body. She'd felt fine when she woke up - a little disoriented, true, but physically fine.

She remembered being young - a woman, yes, but barely out of childhood - and flawlessly beautiful. The face that stared back at her from the mirror was lined with fine wrinkles around the corners of her eyes and mouth, and scarred besides. Her hair, which had once fallen to her waist in silken waves of purest black, was now cut in an inelegant shoulder-length style and streaked liberally with gray.

_What happened to me? Where did this scar come from? And why can't I **remember**?_

She lifted her right hand to her face and trailed her index finger over the thin scar that ran down her cheek - heedless, in her fixation, of the fact that she still had not dried her hands after washing them - until, that is, she noticed the unpleasant sensation of water soaking into the fabric of her sleeve.

Feeling like an idiot for having forgotten what she was doing, Bellatrix shut off the faucet and located a towel, with which she then dried her hands. That taken care of, she returned to the bedroom, shedding her dress along the way. As she made her way to the wardrobe to fetch a clean dress, she wondered idly why she had been sleeping in her day clothes last night when she had a ridiculously large collection of nightgowns, which probably would have been more comfortable anyway...

 _Hmm... if I've been wearing the same thing since yesterday, then I should change my underclothes, too_ , she decided. As long as she was talking to herself, she couldn't help but add sarcastically,  _Not like I don't have enough of those lying around_.

As she reached out to open the dresser drawer, she was once again arrested by the sight of something that was wrong with her body (wrong, different, strange, an unremembered change - what was the correct term here? She didn't know.)

...for decorating her left wrist was an ugly tattoo of a skull and snake. Unlike the other anomalies in her appearance, however, her mind had a ready answer for this one. It was the Dark Mark, which identified her as a servant of the Dark Lord. She reached for any memories of this Mark or the Lord she supposedly served, but it seemed that what she knew about them, she knew only in the form of information (in the same way that a total amnesiac remembers how to speak but not how they learned to do it), and not from any experiential memories.

~to be continued~


	7. Please Grant Me My Small Wish

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 7: Please Grant Me My Small Wish -

Painful as they were, Nymphadora did not want to erase her memories. Once it was made clear that they would not be using the dark side's gift for its intended purpose, the Lethe water was stored carefully in an enchanted cabinet that 12 Grimmauld Place's demented house elf could not get into, and all members of the Order who did not currently reside there cleared out of Sirius's house.

Nymphadora lounged on the living room couch and tried to pretend she didn't notice her housemates alternately glancing in her direction and sending each other worried looks.

"I wonder if there's anything else this stuff could be used for..." she mused aloud.

"Like what?" Severus asked.

"I don't know what, that's what I was  _wondering_!" she snapped. As one who did not usually snap at people, even when irritated, Nymphadora now had the dubious pleasure of having surprised Snape with her uncharacteristic outburst.

"Isn't there someone we could ask about this?" Harry inquired, looking pointedly at Snape as he said it.

"Why are you looking at me like that, Potter?"

"Well, sir," Harry said, sugar-coating his response with a false semblance of respect, "couldn't you use your avatar powers to speak to the goddess of memory who's in charge of the... uh, forget-y river thing?"

Severus scowled. "You have the same damn powers as me. If you want it done, you can do it yourself."

"But-"

"No."

"You're supposed to be the responsible adult here," Harry grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and flopping down on the couch beside Nymphadora. The dramatic effect was somewhat ruined when he hopped up again immediately, a few choice swears slipping from his mouth as he frantically shook out his wings - which he had forgotten to fold properly before sitting. He was now experiencing a feeling similar to that of having a stubbed toe, although over the expanse of a much larger appendage than a toe.

"Hey, watch it!" Nymphadora exclaimed, throwing her arms up to cover her face as yellow feathers rained down on her.

"Ow, ouch," Harry complained, half to himself, as he reached back over his shoulder to rub at the top arch of his aching wing. "Merlin's  _ass_ , that hurts..."

Sirius, looking back and forth between his mutinously muttering godson and the smirking Snape, was not sure whose side to take. If someone was going to use those weird powers of theirs for something, he'd rather have it be the greasy snake. But he also didn't want to hurt Harry's feelings by implying that he would be useless for the task at hand.

Sirius was saved from having to say anything when Remus chose that moment to speak.

"You know, Harry is technically an adult now."

"Yeah, but not a responsible one," Nymphadora piped up.

"Shut up, Tonks! I am so responsible!" Harry protested. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he realized how childish they sounded.

"No, you shut up," Nymphadora responded, sounding more exasperated than anything. "Aren't you putting yourself on the wrong side of the argument now, by claiming to be responsible? I thought you wanted to make Snape do it." Harry turned to look at her but did not respond. She flicked a feather at him. "Besides, did you have an actual question about what that memory water stuff can be used for? It sounded like you had something specific in mind."

"Yeah," Harry replied, the fingers of his right hand unconsciously tracing over the word-scars on the back of his left hand as he spoke. "I want to know if it can be used remove memories of magic from skin."

~to be continued~


	8. I Question The Emptiness

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 8: I Question The Emptiness -

The Dark Lord was still pondering his trip to the underworld as he arrived at the place he currently called home. Through his bargain with Nemesis, he had rid himself of the last trace of anything that might be able to bring back Bellatrix's memory of their daughter - or, indeed, of anything that had happened between the two of them before. The pendant had been central to the evolution of their relationship. And now... Now it was gone, never to be returned - much like Bellatrix's memories.

He hesitated to enter the building. He had been through this once before, and - although he had deemed it necessary once more - he was dreading having to deal with the consequences of his decision. He remembered how difficult this had been for the two of them last time, and what it had taken for them to overcome it. There would be no going back this time, however. Bellatrix's memories were not merely spell-sealed this time; they were well and truly gone, rinsed away into oblivion in the unforgiving waters of the River Lethe - by the very hand of the Goddess of Memory herself, no less.

He did not know what exactly to expect in his first encounter with her after the erasure of her memories. He had been more careful this time about what he'd removed and what he'd left intact, hoping to preserve as much of her original personality as possible - at least, as much as the vast tracts of missing experiential memories would allow. He had taken too much away last time, and she had forgotten not only all of her memories of him, but also her loyalty to his cause, and many things that'd had nothing to do with him but had been loosely tied into her memories of him, and therefore had not escaped the purge.

This time was different, though. He had sifted through her mind piece by piece and carefully separated out what needed to be forgotten from the things that could be safely remembered even if they happened to have tangential connections to the things that she could not be allowed to remember. Which meant that her personality upon waking would be neither her original personality nor the one he had contended with the previous time he'd messed with her mind.

And, although he hated to admit it (even to himself), he was afraid -  _so afraid_  - that what she had said to him that time, (two years ago, after she had recovered her memories, after he had accepted her confession of love, after she had subsequently accepted that he could not return her feelings), would prove to be untrue after all. What if she  _didn't_  fall in love with him again this time? What if, in his attempt to save her, he had instead destroyed her?

The sound of clopping hooves drew him out of his thoughts, and he sighed heavily as he dug in his pocket for his keys and let himself into the shop.

~to be continued~


	9. More of Fire Than Blood

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 9: More Of Fire Than Blood -

"Why do we need to speak to the goddess, anyway? Wouldn't it be easier to just test if the water works for what you want to do with it?"

Everyone else in the room stared at Petunia like she was crazy.

" _What?_ " she snapped, irritated more by the fact that the wizards (and witch) all seemed to know something that she did not than by the way they were all staring slack-jawed at her.

"Experimenting with an unfamiliar magical substance is... not a good idea, to say the very least," Remus explained, putting it more tactfully than either Severus or Sirius would have.

"How does one go about attempting to contact a goddess, anyway?" Petunia inquired.

This time the magical folk didn't have such a ready answer.

"Yeah, how did 'the Dark Lord himself' deliver the water to the Order, anyway? And did he say how he managed to get to the river in the first place?" Nymphadora put forth.

"Most of the dark forces are in deep hiding, but the Malfoys are just going on as if they know nothing about it and weren't involved in anything... he sent the water to them somehow - he could have just shown up at their house and handed it to them, for all we know - and it was passed on to the Order through Draco. So trying to ask  _him_  directly is a dead end," said Sirius.

"So," Nymphadora said, "we're back to the whole thing where Snape needs to use his weird pony powers to talk to the memory goddess and find out what other things we could possibly do with this water."

Severus made an inarticulate sound in the back of his throat when the metamorph referred to his extra magic as  _pony powers_. Petunia patted him on the shoulder sympathetically, as Sirius gleefully corrected his cousin, "The horse is Sleipnir, which is what Harry is the avatar of. Snape has the powers from the underworld goddess Hel." He turned to Severus and concluded, "Which is why it makes more sense for you to venture into the underworld than Harry, anyway."

"Yeah, that does make sense, now that I think about it," Nymphadora agreed. "So, Snape, use your goddess powers to find out the information for us!"

Severus made a further few choking noises while he attempted to reign in his anger at how he was being treated.

"It's settled, then!" Sirius declared. "Snape is going to the underworld. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go and, uhh, do... a thing. Yeah."

He made a quick exit.

"And I'll help him!" Harry said, hurrying after his godfather.

"There's something I need to take care of, as well," Remus said, beginning to edge toward the door.

"Hey, don't call me a thing!" his wife protested playfully as she got up to follow him.

Once those two were gone, Severus turned to Petunia and said, scowling, "Don't you have somewhere to run off to, as well?"

Petunia emitted a decidedly unladylike snort.

"Why? So you can sit here and pout in privacy?"

"I don't  _pout_ ," Severus snapped.

"You do. You're doing it right now."

"I am not!"

She gave him a pointed look and said, "Shall I have the elf fetch a mirror so you can see for yourself?"

"He won't take orders from you."

It was true; Sirius had told Kreacher to obey the guests' orders, but the stubborn old elf would rather punish himself for disobeying a direct order from his master than listen to a muggle.

Severus knew he was over the line the moment he said it, as with those words - and all that they implied - he was poking an old wound which had never healed properly. He would most likely regret it later, but right now he was too irritated to care.

~to be continued~


	10. Am I Insane? Is Society Pleased?

~ Lukewarm Rain ~

\- Chapter 10: Am I Insane? Is Society Pleased? -

After fleeing Snape's impending wrath in the living room, Remus and Nymphadora retreated to the bedroom they had claimed for themselves. It was one that had no portraits hanging in it, so they were able to speak freely with each other without worrying about former members of the Black family carrying gossip all over the house, which would likely reach the other occupants in some garbled form...

"It's a bit strange hearing everyone else call you Tonks still, even though it isn't legally your last name anymore," Remus commented as he settled onto the bed with a book.

His wife flopped down beside him, snatching the book from his grasp and setting it on the nightstand. Well... she tried to set it on the nightstand but missed, and the book tumbled to the carpet below with a muffled thump. Remus sighed and used a wandless levitation charm to float the book back to its rightful resting place.

"Yeah, but it'd be confusing if they started calling me Lupin," Nymphadora answered, turning over to snuggle against him. "And I definitely don't want them to start calling me  _Nymphadora_!" She shuddered at the thought.

Wordlessly, Remus wrapped his arms around her and leaned down to nuzzle her hair. She'd managed to coax a bit of color into the strands today, although her lingering sorrow over her son's death six months earlier was still suppressing her metamorph powers for the most part. Remus wasn't entirely sure whether the thin black streak currently decorating his wife's mane was a good sign or not.

"Speaking of names," Nymphadora piped up when it seemed her husband was determined to remain silent, "I wish..." She trailed off and buried her face against Remus's shoulder.

"What?" he asked gently. When she hesitated to reply, he held her more tightly against him and rubbed his cheek against the top of her head. "What do you wish?"

"Nothing," she murmured. "It's stupid."

"What?" he repeated.

"I don't- I just-" She swallowed and started over. "I wish that... I just wish I could still say his name, you know?" Remus knew without asking that she was referring to her son. Nymphadora sniffled and continued, "It's just, not being allowed to say his name anymore makes it seem like everyone thinks he was as horrible as the freaking bloody  _Dark Lord_ , and that's not... that's not-" She let out a strangled sob. "-right."

"I don't care what everyone else says," Remus whispered. "I helped you raise that sweet boy for the first six months of his life. I loved Ladon like he was my own son, and that is how he should be remembered, not as the monster he was twisted into by a malevolent god's 'gift'."

~to be continued~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To all who stuck with the story this far, I'm not sure whether to say "thanks" or "congrats".....
> 
> This is the chapter to which it is currently published on my ff.net account as well. Chapter 11 is not written yet. I'm having a hard time deciding between the lightside underworld expedition and the reunion between Bellatrix and Voldemort for the subject of the next chapter...


End file.
